


one small moment

by Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, One Shot, Pining, Romantic Gestures, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27906274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome/pseuds/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome
Summary: a reluctant princess and an even more reluctant rebel cross paths the night before Rogue One's final mission.
Relationships: Jyn Erso/Leia Organa
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs 2020





	one small moment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadaras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/gifts).



Jyn wishes she could be anywhere else. Anywhere but here on this stupid Rebel base. Anywhere but counting down the minutes until their last ditch effort to retrieve the Death Star plans. Anywhere but a place where she’s expected to belong and knows she doesn’t. That’s probably selfish, she knows. But the uniform offered to her doesn’t fit her. Well. It does. It fits in the shoulders, and in the waist, but it doesn’t fit _her._

She said she was a Rebel. She still believes it. SHe’s just not quite sure she’s ready to call herself _part_ of the Rebellion. She’d much prefer to remain on the outside of the whole thing, looking in occasionally, perhaps even offering help once in a while. But it seems the Force has laughed at her plans, and now Jyn’s here, and she’s a Rebel and she’s supposed to figure out a way to fit in before she goes off and risks her life with her new-found… companions? Friends? She hasn’t figured out that bit either.

What she has figured out, though, is that the Rebels, as a whole, are a rather depressing, argumentative lot.

There’s not a lot of space for jokes, or for any sort of meaningless chatter here, not while everyone’s arguing over various planets’ codes of chivalry and appropriate terms of engagement for wars and the best way to stretch their already small amount of battle supplies.

She misses the way it had been, back in that time that she had belonged to a cause. Back when she’d known who her friends were, who her family was. She misses that time, and she knows, without a doubt, that time is gone.

Jyn sighs, adjusting her old jacket over her new shirt, wishing she felt more grateful for the clothes. She hasn’t quite figured out gratitude, any more than she’s figured out _manners_ in the way that the Rebellion would probably want her to have.

What she has figured out, though, is that she’s hungry, and the mess hall is closed.

Leia hurries down the hall, hoping she’s not too late for a meal, but knowing she is. Though she hasn’t spent too much time on Yavin IV, she does know the schedule here, almost as well as she knows the layout of every twisting tunnel. In part, Leia thinks, because it helps her feel less like an imposter on her visits. She knows this place is a true home for many, that their entire lives, their lovers and their possessions, all are kept here, deep within the Massassi temple. But for Leia? Her home is spilt into a thousand places. A ship’s quarters. Her Senatorial apartment. The palace on Alderaan. She somehow has both too many homes and none at all. It was why she’d decided to bring more of her clothes here, more of the various trappings of power and dignity given to a princess when she’d much prefer a flight suit and a blaster rifle.

Not that she’d ever get that wish. She’s a princess. A political figure, or more accurately, a figurehead. She’s been told a hundred times her mission is to inspire hope, to uplift the fearful and spread light throughout the galaxy.

She’d much rather be spreading the good _fight_ throughout the galaxy, even if it meant risking her life

Leia’s thoughts remain elsewhere, which causes her to smash directly into another young woman heading in the exact opposite direction. “Hey! Watch it!” the woman shouts, with an accent that sounds half Outer-Rim, half Core-sophisticated.

That, combined with the rather unusual level of rudeness, leaves Leia half-impressed, half-quite unamused. “And who are you?” Leia askes, folding her arms while refusing to move out of the way of the other woman. She takes the time to study her, noticing the hazel-green eyes that are studying Leia right back.

“Jyn,” the woman says. “Jyn Erso.”

“Ah.”

“What’s your name?” she asks, her voice both curt and curious.

“Mine?”

“No, the ghost lurking behind your shoulder.”

Leia tilts her head. She’s not used to being not-recognized. “Leia,” she replies softly. “My name’s Leia.”

“Just Leia?”

She shrugs, “More or less.”

“Right.” Jyn’s lips purse. There’s something she’s not saying, something Leia can practically feel her thinking, but whatever it is, the Rebel keeps it to herself. “I’m headed to the mess hall. You coming?”

“Mess hall’s closed,” Leia replies.

“Why?” Jyn asks, her tone as sharp as her expression. “It’s only…” she pauses to look down at her wrist-chrono, then, with her nose scrunched up and her fists balled, as if she’s ready to fight the very concept of linear time, she says, “well, it’s not too late for someone to be hungry.”

Leia finds herself smiling at the other woman’s stubborn confidence. “I have some supplies in my quarters. Do you like starblossom tea?”

Jyn’s nose scrunches up, giving Leia a very clear answer.

“I might have some other herbal teas, too…” Leia replies.

“Any hot chocolate?” Jyn asks. 

Leia had fully expected the other woman to make a request of a different type of drink, something harsh and alcoholic. Not a warm, sweet drink usually made only for children. It contrasts with her sharp angled face, her confident stance, and the various weapons in her belt. And yet, as Leia studies Jyn, she thinks its rather fitting after all. Sometimes the sharpest things could be quite sweet indeed.

\---

Jyn has no idea where she’s going. Not in the general, where-next-in-her-life sort of expression of the phrase, and not in the specific meaning either. The woman, the oddly familiar woman, Leia, has led her down a dozen winding corridors, most empty, or few with a droid or two hard at work on repairs. It doesn’t escape Jyn’s notice how Leia greets the droids, as if she’s used to being noticed. As if her greetings are expected.

Then, Leia stops in front of a door and punches in a key code, one that Jyn memorizes in the same instant. She figures it never hurts to know another password. The door opens.

Old habits die hard as Jyn enters, one hand still on her blaster, though her grip relaxes as she takes in the sheer luxury of the room. The tapestry on a wall, the massive holo-mirror on the other. And the dresses. The rows and rows of dresses. There’s enough to clothe a whole Naboo choir, Jyn thinks, or enough to pawn for a ship, which is a bit more practical.

If the Rebellion was hurting for credits, why the hell did this woman have so many dresses? Jyn whistles at the sight of the rows of gowns hanging in the corner of the room. Without asking, she steps forward, brushing her fingers over the fine gowns, making their colors shimmer and ripple. “This isn’t your average Rebel wardrobe,” she says.

“I’m afraid I’m not your average Rebel,” Leia replies.

“Well, hey.” Jyn leans against the dresser which she’s sure holds even more finery. “Neither am I.”

“Why not?”

“For one, I don’t believe much in all that… peace and hope and a better life ahead that you lot do.”

“Is that what we believe?” Leia businesses herself setting the electro kettle on the heating coil, but steals a glance back at the other woman. “I had no idea.”

“Sure you do. You believe in hope, right?”

Leia lets out a soft laugh. “I see Captain Andor must be the one who recruited you.”

“I didn’t get recruited. Not by him. Not by anyone.” Jyn speaks quickly, and she’s not sure if it’s the truth or a lie. Something about Leia both unnerves her and pulls her in. She finds herself wanting to be honest, really honest, in a way she hasn’t been in a long time. She finds herself, too, wondering what it would be like to gently undo that long braid Leia wears, and sink her fingers in the chesnut locks, holding Leia close for a kiss.

“Of course,” Leia agrees, but Jyn hears a soft note of disbelief in it. “I’m afraid I can’t offer much for food…”

“I’ve got some meal bars,” Jyn offers, digging them out of a pocket. The wrappers are crumbled, and she’s sure the contents are just as ruined, but it feels strange to not offer. She’d stole them this morning, when no one was looking.

“Oh,” Leia laughs and the sound is as bright as starlight. “I’ll trade you. I’ve this little cake…” she opens a drawer to pull out a carefully wrapped package. A moment later, she reveals a small frosted cake, studded with dried fruit. The sweet scent of candied flowers and honey fills the room.

Jyn’s stomach rumbles. “Looks fancy though. I’m sure you were saving it.”

She shakes her head. “It was a gift from my mother. She asked me to save it for the right time.” Carefully, Leia cuts the cake in half, revealing a rich marzipan center. “You might not believe in a better future, Jyn Erso, or at least you say you don’t, but I hope you believe that at any point, the future could turn out sweeter than the past.”

Jyn freezes. She’s not sure if Leia’s talking about the cake anymore. She’s not sure she wants to know. Instead, as their hands brush, as Leia hands her the cake, all Jyn feels is the electric pull of longing.

Their first kiss is shy, tentative, no more than the soft breeze of spring against bare skin. Jyn pulls back first, her eyes wide and her heart racing. “Who… who are you, really?” she asks. She shouldn’t be kissing someone she doesn’t know. 

Leia blushes, looking down at the half-forgotten cake. “My full name is Leia Organa. Princess of Alderaan.”

It makes sense. It’s terrible and annoying and stupid, but it makes sense. Jyn thought she’d looked familiar, had remembered seeing a princess with long brown hair a lifetime ago. And yet, she’d hoped… well. It didn’t matter. Her hope had proven false, as always. Jyn eats the cake without saying another word.

There’s nothing to say.

She’s got no business kissing a princess. 

“Thanks for the cake,” Jyn mutters, her mouth still full. “I’m going now. See you around… princess.”

“Wait.” Leia holds out a hand. “I… whatever I said, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not what you said. It’s what you are.” Jyn shrugs. She rubs her mouth with the back of her hand but the sweetness of cake and kiss linger. “You’re a princess. I’m a soldier.” Strange how much better that role seems to fit her now, now that she’s seen who else is here on this base, pretending they belong.

“But we’re both in this fight,” Leia insists. “Together. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Jyn shakes her head. “Not to me.”

Carefully, Leia presses up on her tiptoes, to brush a kiss against Jyn’s cheek. It’s so soft she nearly thinks she imagines it, but no, she can smell Leia’s perfume and feel the whispering touch of her silk gone. “Then I’ll hope for a day that it does mean something, Jyn Erso.”

\---

After her capture, after the loss of Alderaan, after her rescue, Leia sits alone in her quarters. Her fingers run over the edge of her dress sleeve, feeling the soft satin and each tiny perfect stitch of the hem. She stares ahead, at the blanket wall, at her packed boxes of gowns and jewels, each one a meaningless trifle now. What good is the regalia of a princess who will never become queen? What occasion would a Rebel have to wear a priceless necklace or a gown made of gossamer-like star-silk? 

All of her possessions are so neatly packed, and yet, she’s the one that feels as empty as this room. Wondering what’s next. Wondering what it all had been for. Wondering if she’s strong enough to keep leading, when she is so full of loss.

Then, there’s a soft knock on her closed door. It whooshes open a moment later. Leia opens her mouth to tell whoever it is to leave her alone, that she’ll be ready in a moment, and then, her open mouth turns into a dropped jaw.

“Hey,” Jyn Erso says. “the mess hall's closed. Got any hot chocolate?”

Leia answers her, not with words, but with a kiss, the sort of kiss she’d spent far too much time thinking about, this past week. And she finds, with sweet relief, that Jyn kisses her right back. They’re equals now, Leia thinks. Not just hero and princess, no, because neither of those titles fit them. But they’re both Rebels, both soldiers in a battle with unwinnable odds.

No matter the odds, though, it seems far easier to face the day ahead with someone who understands that at her side. 

Leia smiles at Jyn, who blushes, which Leia finds quite endearing. Jyn rubs the back of her neck. “Shouldn’t have left like I did.”

“But you came back.”

“So I did.”

“And that’s what matters.” Leia takes her hand, squeezes it. “In the end, all that matters is that you’ll always come back.”

It’s a promise, Leia knows, and she’s not sure it’s one Jyn can keep. But when Jyn digs in her pocket with a free hand, and offers her not a stolen meal bar, but another cake, this one just as fruit-filled, just as sweet, Leia thinks there is hope for them after all.

“It’s called a Lover’s Cake,” Jyn says. “I found that out. Wanted to get you one. Turns out they’re--”

“From Alderaan,” Leia finishes quickly, afraid of the pity that will come next.”

“They’re a pain in the arse to make,” Jyn finishes, pressing a kiss to Leia’s forehead. “Hope it works as an apology though.”

“It just might. What do you say we try it out?” Leia takes Jyn’s hand, and together, they walk toward a sweeter future.


End file.
